


Emotional Blackmail

by tenienteross (ada)



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Assassin's Creed: Syndicate, Assassin's Creed: Underworld, Brother-Sister Relationships, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Jacob's Daddy Issues, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 10:04:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8140052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ada/pseuds/tenienteross
Summary: Evie looks forward to perform her first Leap of Faith along with her brother, but Ethan and Jacob end up having (another) falling-out before the lesson even starts. To ease tensions, she resorts to an old childhood trick.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** Leap.

“Evie, can you remind your brother what is the goal of tonight’s lessons?”

Evie glances to her side inadvertently, fingers firmly clasped on her back. She can sense Jacob’s silent fury flowing, as expected. Father probably noticed too—and that is most likely the reason behind his gratuitous patronising. 

Jacob doesn’t flinch, arms crossed on his chest as he examines the tip of his ragged boots uninterested. 

“Of course, Father,” she throws an urgent look at Jacob, then elbows him lightly. “You said you would finally teach us how to perform a Leap of Faith.”

Ethan nods, standing rigidly over the unused chimney. Yesterday, he had prompted the twins to rendezvous with him at midnight in the abandoned farm, close to the outskirts of Crawley. Not only that, he had _demanded_ punctuality. His glare had been unmistakably directed to Jacob then.

Jacob had taken the clue, showing his teeth in a defiant smirk. Evie had begged him to be cooperative, for everyone’s sake. 

The result? He has arrived fifteen exact minutes later. Deliberately.

“You’re right, Evie,” Ethan jumps down from the chimney effortlessly. “As you should know, a Leap of Faith is not another freerunning maneuver like the ones you have learnt, even mastered. It’s a symbol of our Creed. According to Altaïr’s journal, it dates back even before the destruction of Masyaf...” he stops suddenly.

Snorting under his breath, Jacob rolls his eyes. He’s not trying to be subtle. Ethan takes the bait. 

“I assume you have something to add, son?”

Evie already knows how everything is going to unfold, and it’s not because she has developed a sixth sense. It’s because she sees this on a weekly basis. Even daily, if she recounts the past months of snide remarks between them on every lesson.

Jacob stares at Ethan, challenging. He _is_ looking for a fight, and Evie has to chew the inside of her cheeks to keep shut. 

“Well, I would be surprised you were interested in anything I have to say,” he spites.

“Then I wouldn’t have asked, would I?” Jacob knocks back angrily, as if Ethan had gently slapped him. “You can keep antagonizing me or you can do something useful for once and speak your mind.”

“This is a waste of time,” Jacob blurts, pointing at Ethan. “Do we need a bloody history lesson every night? If this is about action, then _show_ us. I think we had enough of reading shite about dead Assassins for the last nine years.”

Evie lowers her head, kneading her temples. She’s positive Jacob has got one thing right: tonight’s lesson is going to be a waste, but not for the same reasons.

Ethan lets out a caustic snigger, raising his brow. “That would imply you have ever read anything I asked you to.”

Jacob’s boiling anger is not silent anymore. He takes one step to his father, chin up with an arrogant smirk. 

“Oh, yes, because reading about an old Italian tosser came in handy when I fended off those bullies who were pestering workers on the railways. Right, Father?”

The memory of that particular incident comes rapidly to Evie’s mind, and she certainly doesn’t remember it as a good one. One of their neighbours worked in the railway construction, and both Evie and Jacob happened to catch a conversation Mr Abbot was having with his wife on the backyard. It was about the poor working conditions, but more specifically he seemed afraid of a newly arrived band of thieves and bandits that had started to threaten every worker if they didn’t comply with their whims (usually money, sometimes alcohol or jewels). Some had refused to give in, and they had been beaten down. The twins (Evie more reluctantly) had eavesdropped, hidden by the wooden fence that separated their gardens. 

And Jacob had been too eager to prove his strength against those thugs. Evie thought something should be done, but her advice had been to tell their father first before taking action. Jacob had sneered in disagreement. 

That night, he had missed their regular class. Several hours later, Evie (lying awake in her bed, unable to sleep) saw Jacob climbing their room’s window and then barging inside, with fresh cuts on his jaw and neck, a few bruises, blood on his shirt and a shit-eating grin hanging on his mouth.

Next day, they heard the neighbours chatting worriedly about the arrival of a new thug in the rail works. The word spread all around Crawley for a week. After finding out about Jacob’s profitable trip to the construction site, Ethan had been less than pleased.

“Ah, your current moment of victory and applause,” Ethan praises mockingly, clapping. “You even managed to scare the railway workers too after your display of brutality with those bullies. Drawing all the attention to you, and _us_ ,” he gestures towards Evie and him, his eyebrows knitted together.

She could have interfered to point out she would rather be left outside their constant bickering, but Evie knows that would only worsen the current situation. So she remains mute, studying the rooftop emerald tiles, rusted by the stormy winter weather.

Sucking a deep, tired breath, Ethan attempts to place his palm on Jacob’s shoulder. 

He shuns away, disgust written on his hazel irises. 

Ethan sighs once more, and Evie observes the hints of fatigue in her father’s wrinkles. 

“Jacob, I don’t mean to criticize your every move,” he raises his hand before Jacob can open his mouth to retort. “But you are young and you are brash, too reckless. History lessons might teach you something about the mistakes of our brothers and sisters. That’s why we need them: so we don’t repeat the same mistakes.”

Evie thinks that might put an end to this purposeless argument and they can move onto more important matters. But she and Jacob have been together all their lives. They can read each other like an open book; every slip in their expression, every movement of their bodies, and its actual meaning. 

When she sees Jacob’s contorted face and tight fists, she knows what his words are going to be—and that they will both regret them later. But Jacob has been growing disdain and resentment against their father for too long now, so he spits everything full of hate.

“Oh, so they taught you to make a total cock-up of London like you did? Then maybe I am better off without your lessons, _Father_.”

There’s a change in Ethan’s stance. He shifts his weight from one feet to the other, tensing every muscle of his body. Evie looks up enough to see Jacob’s words plunging in Ethan like blades. She shakes his head. 

Ethan’s lips twitch, his eyes narrowed. He’s hurt and he’s disappointed and his pride is wounded. Evie hates it—the exchange of irritated and infuriated glances that no father and son should share. But it’s unmistakably there, like the chill wind of late autumn days that sends shivers through her spine.

“Get out of my sight, Jacob,” Ethan sneers coldly, mouth forming a thin line. “And don’t bother to show up again.”

For once Jacob complies, turning on his heels. “Gladly.”

Without looking back, he hops down the small farmhouse and disappears among shadows. His footsteps can be heard against the wet grass and mud, further and further away. 

After some minutes without speaking, Evie lifts her head up. Her father gazes back at her, shoulders sank. Ethan is aware of what his daughter is thinking and he nods, slowly.

“I will see you back at home, Father,” she hisses softly, tugging on his sleeve. 

Before climbing down to run after Jacob’s fading trail, Evie throws one last apologetical look at Ethan.

-

Crawley is quieter at midnight, desert streets and dark alleys soaking in shadows. However, there’s always a bright, yellow light coming from one sash window looking out to High Street. Above the closed door, an elaborated sign hangs, swinging and screeching with each cold breeze. It’s no surprise said window and sign belong to the most popular local pub in town.

It’s no surprise either to find Jacob there, as Evie had expected. 

When she pushes the heavy door open, she’s welcomed by the smell of beer and thick clouds of smoke coming from pipes and cigarettes. One would think the pub would be empty at this hour, but it’d would be wrong: The Golden Lion has made its name as the most successful and less respectable spot in all Crawley.

Workers from the railway and factories nearby come here to drink themselves into a stupor after a hard’s day work. It’s Saturday and they don’t seem to mind the hour, so the room is packed with drunken men and a few women, dancing and cheering to the beat of one energic violinist’s music.

Grimacing, Evie ebbs through the human tide, searching intently for her brother. Fortunately, she’s already acquainted with his usual spot in one lonely compartment on the other side. Normally he would be joined by some known faces, such as James and Thomas. Old classmates and neighbours which became sort of friends, although Evie suspects the accurate term would be ‘drinking buddies’ or simply ‘troublemakers’. Tonight, however, he’s by himself, taking a long swig of ale. 

She reaches him after shoving several beery patrons aside, finding an empty red padded chair in front of Jacob. Before even greeting, she sits down without asking permission. Elbows on the muggy table, she rests her chin on one hand and and drums her fingers on the rigid surface.

Jacob peers behind his mug and holds her gaze in silence. He knows why she’s here. She knows he’s not going to make it easy. 

“Thanks for coming here instead of the fighting pit in the old Westwood brewery. You saved me quite a lot of time,” Evie scoffs, furrowing.

A sly smirk on his lips, Jacob toasts his beer in the air. “I was thinking of getting drunk first, then go punching, so don’t thank me yet.”

She can’t help rolling her eyes, which is usually her default answer to Jacob whenever Ethan and him have a fight. Incidentally, it’s become quite common with each passing year.

“You know it’s better if you do it the other way around,” she states, a little irked.

“Then where’s the challenge?” he shrugs, taking another long gulp of ale. His face is already flushed with red. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be training with Father? Might lose your perfect student status if he finds you here with me,” he interjects after a short pause, looking down indifferently to the bottom of his mug

Evie growls, sliding back on the chair exasperatedly. “Don’t be stupid. Father was very upset after you left.”

The comment doesn’t draw any reaction from Jacob; not even a slight hint of regret. His gaze doesn’t focus on Evie, abruptly enthused with the rhythmic jig of the violinist, who jumps near their compartment and scratches the instrument’s strings violently with the bow.

Evie slams her palm on the table and it bounces forcibly. 

“ _Jacob_ ,” she hisses, bending over a bit so they are closer. “Do you think being so harsh was necessary?”

Jacob’s eyes finally move towards her, flickering. 

“Excellent. You are taking his side now, because _of course_ you are,” he charges sourly, stamping the beer. The table barely resists the second blow. It’s only thanks to the loud chatting and music around the lounge they haven’t drawn the attention of the barman.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side,” she puffs, tucking a stray hair from her bun back to its place. “I only asked if it was necessary. You two have said very nasty things in your arguments, but that was a low blow even for you, Jacob.”

The only reply she receives is a noisy snort. He has turned his face to one side to avert her glower, pouting and crossing his arms angrily. The thick, sticky air filled with smoke and alcohol mixed with Jacob’s tantrum is getting on her nerves, and she feels her last drops of patience slipping away.

“Very mature, Jacob. Really,” she snaps, tilting her head. 

He throws her an unruffled look. “What does it matter, hm? You can be mature for both of us. I bet you can be mature for everyone here,” he counters, whirling his hands around dramatically to make a point. “That’s why you’re the best, dear sister.”

She’s about to cave in and fall into his trap, irritated as she is now. It’s usually like this: Jacob and father fight and they don’t speak to each other in days. Meanwhile, Jacob takes it upon himself to redirect all his animosity towards her, as if Evie were a punching bag he could use to relieve his own demons with Ethan. 

Mostly she ignores him completely. But tonight Evie has almost fallen for it, and she blames the noise and loaded atmosphere. It could also be she’s done dealing with Jacob’s undeserved hostility towards her. She ends up paying for it, even if she has often steered clear of such fights to avoid picking sides. 

“Don’t try that,” she warns him, pursing her lips. “You want to annoy me to change the subject and it’s not going to work.” She has hit a nerve, because Jacob sighs almost defeatedly and pinches his nose. Evie stretches her arms and places a hand on her brother’s forearm. “Why, Jacob? Why does it have to be like this every time?” 

Her gaze softens, the feeling of exasperation fading away little by little. There’s one thing Evie has acknowledged: it’s easy to get angry at Jacob, but _staying_ is not so much. Sometimes it feels like a weakness on her part—or so she thinks, because there’s plenty Jacob is guilty of.

Evie knows their father can be sometimes harsh, but Jacob also provokes him constantly, as if he were taking joy in frustrating Ethan over and over. As if he wanted to prove Ethan was right in his accusations.

Despite all that, they are her (only) family and it pains Evie deeply to see them like this. When that’s combined with Jacob’s unaware pouty expression once he gets rid of the smug mask, it doesn’t take long before she feels even sorry for that idiot of a brother. 

“He acts like an arse. I’m never good enough for him and I’m sick of trying to live up to whatever he thinks I should be,” he confesses, grumbling and furrowing. 

Evie squeezes his forearm, sucking her teeth. She gives him an understanding, little smile. “Jacob, you know he’d not pressure you to do anything if he wasn’t sure you could put up with it. He sees your potential… and he wants to help you.”

Jacob clicks his tongue, unconvinced by her sister’s claim. Probably (Evie wants to believe it’s the truth) he knows deep down she’s right. Only his wounded ego and unwillingness to accept he’s wrong and overreacting are stopping Jacob to try to make amends in his relationship with their father. At least, this is what Evie believes—and she knows she’s good at reading Jacob, no arrogance needed.

“Then he’s doing a crap job of it,” he mutters, gritting his teeth.

Evie could have indulged her brother, letting him complain and drown in frustration. She has a different plan, though—one that doesn’t involve more hard feelings and helps to ease tension. Staring fixedly at Jacob, who looks back slightly confused, Evie grasps the mug’s handle firmly and sips from the liquid casually. 

The ale tastes too bitter, but her expression is unmoved. Then her eyelids flicker languidly, lips crooking up a bit to form a demure smile. 

Jacob gapes with wide open eyes, the realisation of what Evie’s trying to pull sinking in. They have done this since they were children, back in Wales under their loved grandmother’s roof: putting on the best sappy, pleading and teary-eyed face in order to persuade their sibling to do something they don’t want to. Like that time when they were eight and Jacob had been insufferable about sneaking into the circus camped outside Crawley at night. He had wanted to see the lions, and Evie had feared he’d lose a hand while trying to pet the animals. 

It was a strategy they only used as a last resort, as if it were a secret password between twins to signal this was something beyond important for them. 

She sips again from the mug quietly, blinking and holding his gaze. 

With Evie pulling her best starry eyes (even her lower lip trembles a bit), Jacob knows he’s out of options. 

Arching an eyebrow, he groans, “Stop. That.”

Evie beams a smile full of teeth. “So you promise to come tomorrow, _on time_ and no quarreling with Father?”

Jacob replies with an exasperated sigh.

“Why do you care? You would do better learning that fancy leap on your own than with me.”

Evie’s face shifts, very stern all of a sudden. “That’s not true. I care because it’s important for me, as a future Assassin. I have dreamt about it since I was little and I always thought we’d do it together for the first time, Jacob. Learning it without you feels wrong,” she trails off, rocking her body lightly on the chair. “Pretty please?” she adds, fluttering her eyelids again.

To Evie’s rejoice, the annoyed growl coming from Jacob’s throat means he will definitely do it.

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to start a series focused on the twins, based on one old LiveJournal prompt table ([the last one](http://dailyfics.livejournal.com/36335.html)). I have to thank [geniusonceayear](http://archiveofourown.org/users/geniusonceayear/pseuds/geniusonceayear), because the second part's dialogue is all mostly hers. 
> 
> I pictured this happening when Jacob and Evie are around 16/17, because I couldn't find any info on _when_ Assassin apprentices learn how to leap and I guessed that'd be an appropiate age? Not too old, but not too young either. Anyway, I headcanon that Evie would be geeking out about learning to do leaps of faiths because it's a trademark Assassin thing and she's a nerd. Meanwhile, Jacob would be like "fancy leap, huh?".


End file.
